Forfather Gerard in the morn he sent,
          Who, unsuspecting, to the husband went,
          When, in the presence of the injured wife,
          He drew his sword and swore he’d take his life,
          Unless the mystery he would disclose,
          Which he reluctantly through terror chose. 
          Then having bound the friar hand and foot,
          And in another room his lady put,
          He sallied forth his hapless lot to tell,
          And to the mayor exposed the wily spell;
          The corporation next; then up and down,
          The secret he divulged throughout the town.

          A cry for vengeance presently was heard;
          The whole at once to slaughter, some preferred
          While others would the place with fire surround,
          And burn the house with those within it found. 
          Some wished to drown them, bound within their dress;
          With various other projects you may guess;
          But all agreed that death should be their lot,
          And those for burning had most voices got.

          Withoutdelay they to the convent flew;
          But when the holy mansion came in view,
          Respect, the place of execution changed;
          A citizen his barn for this arranged;
          The crafty crew together were confined,
          And in the blaze their wretched lives resigned,
          While round the husbands danced at sound of drum,
          And burnt whatever to their hands had come;
          Naught ’scaped their fury, monks of all degrees,
          Robes, mantles, capuchins, and mock decrees: 
          All perished properly within the flames;
          But nothing more I find about the dames;
          And friar Gerard, in another place,
          Had met apart his merited disgrace.

Thecradle

Near Rome, of yore, close to the Florence road,
Was seen a humble innkeeper’s abode;
Small sums were charged; few guests the night would stay;
And these could seldom much afford to pay. 
A pleasing active partner had the host
Her age not much ’bove thirty at the most;
Two children she her loving husband bore;
The boy was one year old:  the daughter more;
Just fifteen summers o’er her form had smiled;
In person charming, and in temper mild.

          Ithappened that Pinucio, young and gay,
          A youth of family, oft passed the way,
          Admired the girl, and thought she might be gained,
          Attentions showed, and like return obtained;
          The mistress was not deaf, nor lover mute;
          Pinucio seemed the lady’s taste to suit,
          Of pleasing person and engaging air;
          And ’mong the equals of our youthful fair,
          As yet, not one a pref’rence had received;
          Nor had she e’er in golden dreams believed;
          But, spite of tender years, her mind was high,
          And village lads she would not let come nigh.